


i return to the skies

by Sintharius



Series: Sergei Alekseyevich Dragunov [3]
Category: Tekken
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 04:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20614604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintharius/pseuds/Sintharius
Summary: A little angel gets his wings.(or how Sergei Dragunov found his father)





	i return to the skies

His phone rings when he’s elbows deep in a pile of reports, trying to finish up the work.

“_You better tell me you’re getting off work, old man._”

He sighs. Of course she would call to tell him to get away from work.

“_I’m busy._”

“_I remember someone saying he’s supposed to go on leave _today” she emphasized the word like it offended her, “_and here I am, calling him at his desk like nothing happened._”

“_Binah, I can’t just up and leave. The others need to know how to do my job when I’m gone._”

“_Eww, paperwork._” He could imagine her making a disgusted face at any sort of paperwork she had to do. Field agents can easily swap work between them when one is unavailable; he has no such luxury.

If given a choice, he would rather be out there saving lives instead of sitting here and filing paperwork. But it’s not like he had a choice. Some sacrifices had to be made.

“_Now please shut up and let me work._”

“_See you back home, old man! Don’t forget to bring the ice cream, I got dinner today._”

She hangs up.

He checks his watch. 1530.

Still another hour and a half to get the giant pile of paperwork before him done. Before he can finally have a few weeks of rest.

He shakes his head, before pulling out another form and set his pen down.

***

A guard waves at him as he checks out.

The medic stares up at the greying sky, winds whipping at his face. He can feel ice flaking on his face.

It’s been a while since he has time to actually ponder things outside of work… and how much it has costed him.

Namely, his family.

Losing his wife and children had been hard.

She was open with her affairs, citing his constant busy schedule as her reason to be out bedding other men – of which he had never contested. He’s just sad she never tried to understand him or the requirements of his work between making more and more demands, many of which he simply cannot comply with.

When the divorce papers came, he just signed. No point in trying to salvage the relationship. Not when she took offense to his very reason for existence.

The court had granted her custody of their children – owing to the fact that they are underage – and forced him to pay child support. And then she had decided to deny him visitation out of spite.

“My house, my rules” indeed. It hadn’t been his house for a while, since she started seeing other people when he was away.

Now he’s alone, with only work to keep his mind off the disaster that was his home life.

Binah had called his now ex-wife a bitch when she found out about the divorce, and offered to mess with her out of petty revenge. Free of charge, of course; friends discount.

He had to threaten to go out there and kick her ass himself to get her to stop. His ex-wife might have left him, but he has no desire to make her – or their children’s – life harder.

The next day, he got an armful of Spetsnaz agent when he arrived home. And bonus chocolate cake.

“_I don’t know what you like, so I just brought cake. Chocolate cake makes everything better._”

She had spent the night at his house, eating cake and beer and watching trashy movies with him.

He awoke the next morning hungover and alone. Binah had left early in the morning – Spetsnaz had called her back for a high priority mission – and left a note apologizing for the abrupt leave.

There’s still an empty hole in his heart from losing his family, but Binah makes it more bearable.

Just a little.

***

Binah is waiting for him at home, having let herself in with her own key. He had given her his ex-wife’s key after his divorce, having no one else he can trust it with.

His dinner table is lined with takeout boxes. He opens one out of curiosity, and is met with the smell of roasted duck.

Looks like it’s Chinese tonight.

Said Spetsnaz agent is in a tank top and sweatpants, her steady form waltzing around the kitchen as she digs for plates and cutlery. Suddenly she stops and looks over her shoulder at him, sizing him down; he suddenly feels self-conscious in his shirt and pants.

“_You look like shit._”

He raises an eyebrow. “_Says the one that gets shot at on a regular basis._”

She puts a plate full of chow mein on the table, before stalking over and flicks him in the forehead. “_At least I’m not slowly rotting away on a desk with a face full of papers. But… seriously, you need a break._”

“_Duly noted._”

Binah laughs, and it echoes in the hollow in his heart.

They spend the next hour chewing down on dinner and watching the news. He is in a tank top to match Binah, and shorts; it’s not cold enough for pants just yet.

“_So what’s the plan?_”

Binah is looking at him, her fork halfway to her mouth with a piece of vegetable stuck on it. She is sitting on the couch with her legs folded, another plate balanced perfectly on her thighs.

He raises an eyebrow back at her, still occupied with the food.

Truth be told, he has no plans. The decision to give him several months’ worth of leave – years of accumulated vacation days unused – had come as a surprise to him, even though he can’t exactly blame them. Command had recognized the toll of his divorce on his mental health, and they had chosen to give him some time off to get himself together.

Though… without the colossal amount of work to keep him occupied, he has no idea about what he should be doing.

“_I don’t know._”

“_Please don’t tell me that the Surgeon General of Russia doesn’t know what to do in his downtime._”

“_I am not the Surgeon General. Binah, please._”

“_Let’s not pretend the dumpster fire holding the title is any better than you, old man._”

Since the day the military offered him the chance of replacing the current Surgeon General, all the medics – and some other personnel, if the Spetsnaz agent sitting next to him is any indication – have been relentlessly teasing him about it. He had turned down the position in anticipation of spending more time with his family.

Too little, too late.

“_You can always start with a walk. Go out, talk to people. Enjoy life a little._” He swats a hand at her platinum hair half-heartedly, and she inches to the side to dodge it. “_You gave so much to the country. It’s time to indulge yourself, or you’ll die without seeing how the world is like._”

“_…But what do I do?_”

She glares at him. “_Did you seriously forget to be a normal person?_”

“…_I haven’t had a break since that happened._”

Her expression softens. She lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently.

He’s _tired. _Ever since his ex-wife left him, he has been working nonstop – and only now, with no more work to keep his mind busy, he’s starting to feel the exhaustion. A break sounds good in all honesty. With any luck, he’ll piece back enough of himself together to function again.

“_Perhaps it’s time you get to be a person again, instead of an overworked medic_. _Let’s hang out tomorrow. I know this café down the street... they make a killer espresso._”

He replies with a nonchalant shrug. Getting a coffee won’t hurt, and it’s a start.

“_So that’s a yes? Great!_” Binah hops from the couch to start on cleaning the plates. “_Do you mind if I stay the night? I don’t fancy having to find a hotel in the middle of the night._”

“_Sure, whatever._”

Not the first time she has stayed for the night; he’s confident she can take care of herself. Odds are he’s going to wake up in the morning to find her occupying his couch. Same as usual.

“_…You should go to bed early for once. Catch up on sleep. Do you ever sleep in?_”

He’s not exactly sleep deprived, since losing out on sleep means loss of focus. As a surgeon, losing his ability to focus would be deadly. And he would like to avoid accidently killing a patient just because he doesn’t get enough sleep. “_No thank you, I have better things to do with my time.”_

“_You mean _had. _Now you got all the time in the world._”

Binah has a point. But after years of military trained (and messed up) sleep schedule, he’s not sure if he can even sleep in. Sleeping early he can do, though.

He glances at his watch. 2205.

She nudges his leg with her foot. “_Go sleep. I’ll sleep once you do._”

He complies, if a little reluctant.

***

That night, he dreams of dark hair, pale skin and blue eyes.

And scars.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [Tumblr](https://sintharius.tumblr.com) :bolb:


End file.
